


Beneath The Brilliant Sky

by FennelFox



Category: 3000 BCE RPF, Ötzi the Iceman RPF
Genre: Archaeology, Gen, Ice Mummy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 01:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17878493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FennelFox/pseuds/FennelFox
Summary: He was far from home and bleeding into the snow.





	Beneath The Brilliant Sky

The sun dazzled off the mountains, reflecting off the blinding snow on the perfectly smooth pass that lay before him, refracting in too many colors to be called pure white. The snow had fallen in huge individual flakes and in the shadows of the rocks, next to the outflung hand, it sparked like stars. It was gorgeous, and brutal to look at, searing the eyes and forcing the man to squint until his temples ached. He would not look at the ground at his feet, would not acknowledge the churned snow spattered with carmine. Instead he glared up at the sky, which was a deep cerulean blue, so hard and brittle that he was afraid it would crack against the burning sun. He wished he could capture the color and seal it in a jar, or daub it onto his hide coat. Cover himself in the blue of the sky and disappear, like his attacker would disappear, laying among the stars in the shadows.

He pulled his wandering thoughts together. There was no time for just staring at the sun. He was a long way from home and he continued to bleed; he remembered through his shock, that he should not have pulled out the arrow; fretted that the tip had not come out with the shaft, but hoped that it would help to stop the blood so he would not die _quite_ so soon.

He thought of home and resolve straightened his spine and gave him the power to lift first one leg, then the other. His broad shoes, soled in bearskin and stuffed with warm grasses, allowed him to walk without sinking too deeply into the snow, but it was hard going, and he labored with the exertion of every breath and every step. He was well familiar with the pass; he had traversed it many times. But it was another pass in the sun on fresh snow, hiding its landmarks and making the difficult inclines and descents treacherous. He brushed his numb fingers against the beautiful leather belt at his waist; remembered his old wife who had made it and given it to him in the verdant summer meadow under a warm, mellow sun. He remembered how she had said as he set out, bright-eyed with worry, “Return to me as soon as you may.” He held her face in his mind and tried to ignore his light-headedness and the warm, steady trickle of blood that fell noiselessly into the snow at his feet, turned in her direction.

If only he could see; if only his eyes could get a little relief from the relentless brightness! The snow under him shifted and creaked. The sun was not hot enough to create a crust of ice for him, which would at least ease his passing, but these were minor worries, compared to—if only he could catch his breath, and sit in the dark shade of one of the trees growing far below him!

The sky spun above him and he stumbled off the path that lay hidden under the snow. The trees below blurred together with the green-gold afterimages left from the dazzle; and he fell down, down, down the mountain side. He gasped as he fell and reached out, but he struck his head and blackness claimed him as he tried to rise again; and so his already-chilled body slowly froze under the unbelievable blue sky and the relentless white sun. Night came, and another day; snows came, and tenderly covered him in a shroud.

More snows fell on the mountain, but at the base of the mountain spring finally came, and the old wife waited for him anxiously, watching for his figure returning from the pass, just as a young woman waited for a hunter who had gone out just a day after him and never returned. Others waited and watched as well, but the dark glances they exchanged turned darker and darker at the continued absence of both; and finally they began to shake their heads.

Five thousand springs later, the ice age was at last drawing to a close. The snows on the mountain top gradually melted, melted, melted until one day two hikers strayed from the same ancient pass and found a body face down in the ice, ribs jutting through skin. Appalled, they notified the authorities, who notified the archeologists — and now the people of the world call him Ötzi and have many questions about who he was, why he was there, why he was killed.

All those who could tell the old hunter’s story, those who waited for him desperately and whose hearts broke under the steady passage of the days of his absence, have disappeared from beneath the brilliant sky and moved on into eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> All the descriptions of Ötzi, his injuries, his clothing and gear are archeologically accurate, to the best of my knowledge. For more information about him, the South Tyrol Museum of Archeology has a great website!
> 
> Of course, we have no idea who killed Ötzi or why. I am assuming that like many modern homicides, he knew his attacker. He was found with valuable objects, including a copper axe. Since that wasn't stolen, I think either he killed the person who shot him or that person couldn't take Ötzi's possessions because they would be recognized.
> 
> Ötzi's DNA indicates a high probability that he was infertile, but I don't believe that this meant he was a "social outcast" as some articles posit. I think the quality of his belongings and his tattoos indicate it's more likely that he was a valued member of his community.


End file.
